Drifting Together
by stabatmater
Summary: AU. Dean and Castiel have shared a flat for a while. It takes misunderstandings, arguments and their friends' casual observations to make the mechanic and the teacher acknowledge that they have become more than flatmates. (Written in British English because that's what I learned at school, I hope it doesn't bother you. Also, no Sam x Meg in here, promise.)
1. Chapter 1

The flat was quiet and dark when Dean let himself in. His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he took off his shoes and leather jacket. His fingers brushed against the familiar material of a trenchcoat. He smiled; Cas was home, then. There had been some event at the school to celebrate the contract for a learning partnership with Richard Roman Enterprises which Crowley, the head of Cas's school, had managed to seal (Cas called it "a match made in hell", while Dean usually referred to it as "the Dick move"). His flatmate had joked that he might actually come home later than Dean, who had had a late shift today. Apparently, though, he had gone home early, as Dean had expected him to.

Dean dropped his bag in his room, changed into a sleeping T-shirt and sweatpants and paid a visit to the bathroom before walking further down the hallway to the kitchen. His throat was a bit sore from the cool, dry air the ventilation system blew through the airport buildings all day. Not wanting to switch on the light and possibly wake Cas, Dean felt his way past the fridge and the kitchen table before he filled himself a glass of lukewarm water. It didn't taste remarkably good but it eased the soreness in his throat.

He was just about to leave the kitchen and go to sleep when the lights were turned on.

"Who the fuck are you?" an angry female voice demanded.

Dean blinked against the harsh artificial light. A short woman with wavy, dark hair and a heart-shaped face stood in the doorway in her pants and a purple shirt. He had never met her before. "I could ask you the same thing."

She raised her chin. "My boyfriend lives here."

 _Boyfriend?_ Dean thought. Cas hadn't mentioned a lady in the last couple of months. "Well, yeah, he has a flatmate."

The woman came closer, her eyes so narrowed they almost seemed black. "I'm calling the police."

"Do that", Dean said in a tone of mock approval.  
"They'll be delighted to investigate the case of a guy who broke into his own flat with a key."

She moved faster than he would have expected her to. Suddenly the cutlery drawer was open and Purple Shirt pointed a carving knife at his chest.  
"Leave."

Dean wasn't stupid enough to argue with someone holding a weapon. Hands raised, he backed out of the kitchen, only to bang against Cas's door as he passed it. "Cas! Dude, come out."

The door opened seconds later. Blue eyes blinked slowly at Dean and the woman.

"Dean, what…oh." Cas approached the woman. "Meg, please put down the knife. That's Dean, my flatmate. Dean, this is Meg."

"Pleasure." His voice came out in a snarl.

Meg didn't lower the knife, either; Cas had to pry it from her fingers. She turned towards him. "You could've said something, you know."

Dean growled in annoyance; he really didn't need this at three o'clock in the morning. "Well, I'll be going to sleep, in _my own bed_ in _my own room_ , if you don't mind." He turned on his heels and left.

Cas and Meg were already arguing, Meg's voice getting louder and more piercing with every sentence, so he pulled the covers over his head and tried to drown out the sounds. His thoughts raced. Who was Meg? How had she and Cas found each other? Why hadn't Cas told him? Why hadn't Cas told her about Dean? And what – Dean's stomach dropped – was he supposed to do if the two ever got more serious?

Two years ago, after a nasty break-up with Mark, the tattoo artist with an inclination to aggression, Dean had been looking for a flat. But living space was rare and expensive, so it had been a stroke of luck when he had run into Cas during house-hunting. They had known each other before that; they had been good friends at school and stayed in loose contact afterwards. Dean couldn't remember who had made the suggestion that they share a flat but they had easily agreed to give it a try; and two years later they were still happy with the arrangement.

Now, however, this would change. Dean couldn't possibly share a flat with Cas-and-Meg. He would have to go looking for something else – again. The thought alone made him want to punch something. There were no flats suitable for a single person, not in the good parts of town, not for a reasonable price. Dean ground his teeth. It wasn't _fair_ –

Quick steps in the hallway, and Meg's voice, close to his door.  
"Well, it's been a real slice knowing you, Clarence."  
"Castiel."  
"What _ever_."  
The entrance door slammed shut. There was a tentative knock on Dean's door, and Cas's voice. "Dean?"

He didn't reply, and after a moment, he heard Cas go back to his room.

* * *

"I made coffee."

Dean stared at the steaming mug Cas put in front of him, then at the guy himself. Cas sighed. "Drink, please. I want to explain."

"Meg was right about one thing, you know", Dean blurted out. "You could've said."

"Said what? 'Dean, heads-up when you come home, there's a heavily intoxicated woman on the kitchen sofa'?"

"Wait, she slept on the sofa?" Dean glanced over to see the crumpled pillows and the blanket carelessly draped over the armrest. "Ew. I hope you didn't have fun on that thing. I could never sit down there again."

"Were you listening to me?" Cas asked, mildly annoyed. "We didn't 'have fun' anywhere. She was drunk."

"Good thing she has such a caring boyfriend, then, huh?"

"Dean Winchester. Will you drink your fucking coffee already and let me explain?"

Reluctantly, Dean picked up the mug. The coffee smelled delicious. He took a sip and looked at his friend expectantly.

"Meg is a journalist. Crowley knows her from the articles she wrote about Rowan High when he was the head there. He invited her to the party because she'll portray his success with his new school in a good light. But he was too busy fawning on Mr Roman –"

"– the Dick –"

"You really shouldn't let him hear that, Dean", Cas said with a smile in his voice. "Anyway, Crowley was busy so he basically threw Meg at me. Apparently, he went to college with Luke and figured that someone who is Luke's type would also be mine, because that's how brothers work." He rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't bad. Meg is a good conversational partner if she doesn't threaten one with a knife. Only, she had too much alcohol – not that I blame her, the party was dreadful – and I couldn't let her go home alone, or even get a cab. So I brought her here. I would have given her my bed and slept in the kitchen but she passed out on the couch." Cas let out a breath. "There. I didn't hide her from you, we didn't fornicate on the sofa, and you don't have to start looking for flats."

Dean nearly choked. "How'd you –"

"Well – it's the conclusion I would jump to. If you brought someone home." Cas shrugged.

Dean nodded slowly, then grinned into his coffee. "I'm not sure if she was as drunk as she pretended to be, buddy."

Cas gave him a puzzled look. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, for one, she must have agreed to come here with you. And then she was angry that you didn't tell her about me – which I understand: you wanna bang someone, you'll want to know if a third person might barge in. _And_ she told me that you were her boyfriend, which kinda took me by surprise."

Cas coughed and got up. "Well, she was wrong to do so", he muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

"Stop laughing", Dean said, grinning.

Beside him, Benny was doubled over with laughter. "What the fuck, Winchester", he managed between snorts. "How come it's always you who ends up in situations like that?"

"Shut up. Let's get to work already. Ed's driving us across the airfield." Dean shuddered inwardly; for someone with a paralysing fear of flying working on an airport wasn't exactly a walk in the park. He kept the job because it paid well and because he didn't actually have to go near the planes; they had specialist mechanics for that. Flickering lights in the restrooms, baggage belts getting stuck, or a short circuit at the security check – those were Dean and Benny's jobs.

"Mmmkay, boss." Benny was still cackling when they squashed in the maintenance car. "Can't wait for Charlie to hear the story."

* * *

Charlie heard the story a week later. She had been on holiday with Dorothy, who, being a pilot, had just boarded the next plane to Paris. Dean and Benny thought it their duty to cheer up Charlie, which had led to the three of them sitting in the staff cafeteria laughing about the militant Meg.

"Seriously though", Charlie said, still grinning widely, "that must've been a shock when she said she was Cas's girlfriend, wasn't it, Dean?"

"I – well, yeah." Dean rubbed his neck. "We're not…we don't tell each other every bit of our private lives but we're friends, right? It hit me that he didn't – it would've hit me if there was anything. If he hadn't told me there was anything, I mean."

"You're not making sense, man." Benny clapped him on the back. "C'mon, time to get back to work – sorry, Chaz."

Charlie made a dismissive gesture. "See you later, bitches."

Benny laughed. "Sometimes, it's hard to imagine that you're airport security."

* * *

 _See you later_ didn't happen that day.  
Five minutes before the end of Dean's shift, there was a call from gate 13 where black smoke was coming from the air vents. The gate and the ones next to it had to be evacuated, panels in the walls had to be opened to find the source of the smoke, and by the time the repairing, cleaning and closing up had been done it was one in the morning.  
Benny had long gone home (the lucky bastard had a sick kid at home. It was just a light flu but enough to allow him to leave early), as had Charlie. Tired to the bone, Dean stumbled down the stairs to the airport train station. He wished he had taken the car but it wasn't practical for rush-hour traffic in the city. Luckily, the next train arrived minutes later, taking him back into town, where he had to take the –

"Fuck."

The red rear lights of the bus seemed to mock him, winking as they disappeared round the corner. Dean stared at the street with a numbness that made it hard to think. He could wait for the next bus, which would arrive in 45 minutes, if the timetable was to be trusted. Or he could get a cab. The first option was nonsense; he'd be faster on foot. The second option was tempting but not exactly within his salary.

Sighing, he settled for the third option: to walk. He had barely walked to the next street corner when the rain set in – a fine but dense drizzle which formed growing drops of water in his eyebrows, his hair, his stubble, on the tip of his nose and the hems of his jacket. It muffled the nightly sounds of the city around him, it dimmed and scattered the light of the street lamp.  
Dean felt as if he was in a dream, as if this weird watery version of his city wasn't real. Only the sight of the oddly old-fashioned wooden door of his apartment building woke him from that trance.

The flat was almost dark when he let himself in, only a strip of light under the kitchen door illuminated the hallway. Dean took off his shoes and jacked and dropped his bag at his door, then he went to the kitchen.

Cas was sitting at the kitchen table, his phone and the newspaper abandoned in front of him. He looked up when Dean came in; the dim light painted shadows under his eyes and cheeks.

"Dean", he said with a crack in his voice. "Where the – where the _fuck_ have you been?"

Oh, damn. He had completely forgot to drop a message. Guilt gripped his heart like a hand of steel.

"I'm so sorry, Cas", he said, making a step towards the table with one hand reaching for his friend, but Castiel leaned away from it. Dean swallowed.

"There was an emergency that took ages, I worked till one o'clock. I wanted to call, I really did, but it was so late, 'n I was knackered – "

"Too knackered for even a text?" Cas's voice was so sharp that it made both of them flinch. "And if it was one o'clock, why are you at home at half past three? The train doesn't take that long – "

"I missed the bus", Dean started to explain but was interrupted by Cas rising so abruptly that his chair fell over.

"You _walked_?" Cas ran a hand through his already tousled hair and pressed the other hand against his lips as if to remind himself not to shout. " _You walked_? No wonder you're soaked – "

"– it's only drizzling – "

"– walking through the quarters behind the station, alone, at three in the morning – you idiot, you fucking idiot!"

"I didn't wanna wait for the bus for forty-five minutes! What're you calling me an idiot for?"

"It was reckless! The area around the station has the highest crime rate in the whole region, you know that!"

"Cas, I'm a grown man who don't look like he's got a lot of cash on him", Dean said, rubbing over a spot on his worn-out jeans. "No-one would attack me."

"Don't be so stupid", Cas hissed. "Even _you_ ", the word had a sarcastic tone to it, "couldn't fight some desperate robber with a knife or a gun. Especially not if you're tired and soaked in rain! How could you be so dumb? Why didn't you call? Was it your pride? Did you feel the need to prove something to the world – to prove that Dean Winchester can go anywhere without caring if he might get mugged or not?"

Dean was tired, so tired. His head was spinning. But Cas's words stirred something in him, anger, maybe, or the little boy trying to justify stealing peanut butter for his baby brother. He glared at his flatmate.  
"Don't talk to me like that, _Castiel_. Why d'you care about my safety, which, by the way, wasn't in any danger all the way home? You're not my father, or my chaperone, or whatever you think you are –"

"I'm your _friend_!" Cas made two quick steps towards Dean until their feet were almost touching. "I worry if you're not home when you should be and forget to tell me why! I don't want you to catch a cold in this weather or get stabbed in a dark alley but you don't seem to think about that for one second! And someone has to – I care because, apparently, _you don't_!"

Dean stared at him numbly.

"I've got late shifts for the rest of the week", was all he said before he left the kitchen and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Disclaimer, etc. I should probably warn you that this chapter is highly OOC due to an unusual amount of _talking to each other for once_.

* * *

When Dean woke in the morning, Cas was long gone. The sun-lit kitchen felt empty. Apparently, Cas had washed his mug and plate and put them back in the cupboard; his used coffee filter was in the bin and the table had been wiped clean. Dean had a hollow feeling in his chest that even two bowls of cereal, a banana and half a litre of coffee couldn't fill.  
His shift would start at four, today as well as the rest of the week, which meant that he wouldn't see Cas until Saturday morning. Cas would leave before him and be asleep when he came home.

At a quarter to one, Dean threw his pride overboard and dialled Sam's number. He needed to talk to someone, dammit.

"Dean", Sam said, sounding amused. "To what do I owe the unexpected honour?"

"Hiya, Sammy." Dean cleared his throat, suddenly remembering that his younger brother was working on a big research project (about the relevance of 18th-century laws – basically, tidying up the entire jurisdiction of the United States). "Uh, 'm I interrupting?"

"No, don't worry. I'm waiting for a report from Wyoming, I can't do much before that's arrived."

"That's, well, that's good. Uh…how are you? How's Jess and Mary?"

"We're good. Jess has gone back to work for a week now, part-time, it relaxes her to get back into the job. Mary is starting to babble whenever you look at her." Dean could hear Sam's proud, happy smile in his voice. "And you?"

"I'm…" Dean took a deep breath. "I'm not ill or anything, but I'm not entirely okay."

And before he could stop himself, he told his brother of the last night and, for some reason, of the Meg incident (he suspected that part of him still took Cas 'not telling him' to the heart).  
When he was finished, there was a long silence on the other end of the line. Dean's heart hammered against his ribcage.

"Sam? You still there?"

"Yes." The younger Winchester sounded as if he was smiling. "Sorry – I'm still processing."

Dean heard some paper shuffling and the clink of pencils in a glass before Sam spoke again. "Is there a way to change your shifts?"

"No. They got changed to late shifts last night, because of that damn smoking vent."

"Hm. And you don't want to fix this over the phone, I assume."

"That's not the right way to do it, is it, Sammy?"

"No. It's not." Sam cleared his throat. "If there is really no way you two can talk before Saturday, maybe that's your chance to figure out what you want to say to Cas. You know. Find the right words, make sure you don't accidentally rub salt into the wounds."

Dean's laugh sounded more bitter than intended. "You think I can actually do that?"

"Cas means a lot to you, right? He's one of your best friends. You wouldn't have called me if you weren't serious about restoring peace between you two. So no, Dean, I don't _think_ you can do that, I _know_."

"But what do I say to him?"

Sam sighed. "How should I know? You guys live together, you're probably the one who knows him best. But I guess, for starters, since it upsets him if you get yourself in danger – just maybe don't do that."

Dean rubbed his face. "He was right about that, anyway." He heard a loud 'ping' on Sam's side. "I guess that was the Wyoming report?"

"Well – yeah, but it can wait."

"No, please. I've been keeping you from work for way too long. And I s'pose you're right, I'll find the words somehow. Thanks, Sammy."

"No problem. Hey, and Dean? Thank you."

Dean frowned. "What for?"

"For telling me. I can tell it wasn't easy for you. It's good to see how much you care for Cas's – friendship. Good luck." With that, Sam hung up, leaving his older brother more confused yet also more determined than before.

When Dean left the flat an hour later, there was a piece of paper taped to Cas's door, covered in hurried handwriting and crossed-out words:

 _Cas,_

 _I'm sorry, I should've rung. You were right, I should have taken the bus._

 _We're not going to see each other till Saturday and this doesn't cover everything I wanna say – at all – but I'm a dumbass sometimes. That's another thing you were right about. I think nothing can hurt me and if it does I probably deserve it since I'm rude and careless and I never reply to messages and always say whatever comes to my mind without thinking about how that feels for_ _y-_ _the other person and everything and –_

 _You're just…a much better person.  
_

 _Glad you're watching out a bit for me. Kinda tells me I'm not a lost cause._

 _So, I promise to wait for the bus tonight, and…talk to you Saturday?_

 _Thanks, man. For everything._

 _Dean_

* * *

Dean didn't get a response to his letter the next day. It was Wednesday, which meant three more days until he would get the chance to talk things out with Cas. The thought made him nervous and restless, even more so because in hindsight, he felt that he had said too much in that letter, bared too much of his soul to his flatmate.  
 _Shut up_ , he told himself. ' _Bared my soul', for Christ's sake, Winchester, get a grip._

As Cas didn't leave a note on Thursday, either, Dean's mood got foul.  
He was so cranky all day (or better, all night) that Benny, whose shifts had been changed along with Dean's, convinced Charlie to stay at the airport until midnight for "an intervention".

"Alright", Charlie said, yawning and combing her tousled red hair with her fingers. "Dean, what's the matter?"

"Don't know what you're talking about", Dean muttered around a mouthful of burger. It tasted like cardboard. He should have brought his own lunch instead of relying on the food stalls at the airport.

Benny elbowed him in the ribs. "Don' play dumb for once. Something's crawled up your arse 'n you've been in a shit mood for days."

"Tell us." Charlie's voice got all soft and empathic when she was tired. "Has the malicious Meg returned?"

"No!" Dean coughed and put down the burger. "No, God, she's got nothing to do with it."

"So there IS something wrong?"

He glared at his friends. "You're not gonna give up and mind your own damn business, are you?"

Benny and Charlie shook their heads in unison.

Dean growled. "Fine. Monday night, when that damn vent started smoking, I forgot to tell Cas I was gonna be late. And I missed the bus so I walked. He was majorly pissed. Wanted to know why I didn't bother to send a text. And why –", he stumbled across the thought, trying to find the words. "Why I didn't care about my safety, or something like that."

Benny frowned but Charlie nodded, as if she agreed with Castiel. "What did you say?"

"Nothing", Dean replied gruffly. "Went to bed. But…"

"But…?"

"Well, he was right, wa'n't he? So I wrote him a note. Said I was sorry he'd been so worried. And promised to wait for the next bus from now on."

"And what did he say, then?"

"Nothing."

"Nothin'?" Benny stared at him. "You're kidding, man."

"Nah. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero."

Charlie's eyes seemed to pierce his skull. "So you're pissed because he didn't reply?"

Dean opened his mouth. Closed it again. No, that wasn't it. He recalled his chat with Sam. "There's this – ill humour – between us that's unresolved, and that sucks. I can't work properly knowing that my flatmate's still mad at me and I can't do anything about it."

Again, his friends exchanged a look. He had had it with those looks. " _What?_ "

Benny clapped him on the shoulder. "I don't know, man – if I didn't know better, I'd say you were in love with the guy."

"What?" Dean sputtered. "I'm not – I ain't in love with Cas!"

"Okay, okay, Dean, calm down." Charlie put a hand on his arm and shot Benny a warning glance. "But I have to admit: Even though you two are not an issue… you are so weirdly _exclusive_ , you know? You know each other's families. You cook dinner together whenever it's possible. You tell each other about the horrible day you've had – don't deny it, you've told us about that, even Benny and I know more about Cas's students than their parents do. And the guy's frantically worried when you don't call. You may not be a couple, but you are some sort of family, and there's few things that can come between you."

"Cas is like a _brother_ to me", Dean growled. "I don't even think he's into dudes."

"I know he is," Benny said casually. Charlie and Dean gaped.

"What? I met him at the last Pride parade. He wore a wedding dress, a rainbow drape, and lipstick. Said he didn't want any possibly homophobic parents to recognise him on camera. Hell, I wouldn't've known him if he hadn't talked to me first."

Charlie laughed. "I would've loved to see that."

 _Cas likes men. Cas in a wedding dress. Cas likes men_ went round and round in Dean's head. He pressed two fingers against his temples to focus. "OK, so that's nice and all, but how, exactly, is that gonna help me with that situation?"

Charlie scoffed. "Dean, Benny called this intervention to tell you to stop being a dick. Not to help you with your – domestic. We can't help you there. I agree that it's a shit situation, but don't carry it out on us, 'kay?"

Dean grumbled something unintelligible and took another bite of his tasteless burger. Charlie rolled her eyes, got up, and smacked the back of his head.

"Cheer up, sunshine. It's two a.m. on a Friday, only one more shift until you can talk to your totally platonic flatmate buddy brother, or whatever Cas is to you. – Hasta luego, bitches!" And with that, she was gone, red hair swinging behind her.

Benny stretched his legs under the table. "Don't get me wrong, but aren't you exaggeratin' things a bit? It's only an argument."

"It's our first one", Dean said, wincing at the sentence that might as well have had a big JUST MARRIED sign attached to it.

Benny tried to keep a straight face. "In two years? In that case, my friend, I'm pretty sure you'll be able to fix it. Someone who's had to live with your rottin' food in the fridge 'n your greasy tools all over the place won't be put off by you not taking the bus, or whatever. Now chuck that abomination of a burger in the bin and let's get back to work before Ed has a coronary."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _short-ish one, there'll be one more chapter to come, I reckon. Enjoy, dears :)_

* * *

Friday night.

At a time which most people used to go out, have a drink, watch football, Dean and Benny worked on a moving walkway which had stopped working after some toddler stuck a pacifier between the panels. The kid and the family were long gone, to Barbuda or Tel Aviv or Hong Kong or Oslo, but the pacifier was still stuck somewhere in the gears, and people were starting to complain about the lack of accessibility. (Benny had had to look up "ableist" on his phone.)

Dean squeezed himself into the small space between the floor and the technical panels, aggressively chewing on a piece of gum to stop himself from swearing. Whoever had planned the airport had not counted on toddlers' temper tantrums, and had placed an escalator right between the ceiling light and the working access for mechanics – Dean was staring into darkness.

"Oi, Benny, gimme some light."

"Gotcha." Benny shone a torch in his direction. "See the pacifier?"

"Yeah, hang on." Dean stretched his arm out, but his gloved fingers were too clumsy to grasp the tiny piece of plastic. "Damn. Hand me some tongs, would ya?"

It took them another half an hour to get the pacifier out and put the gears back into place. By the time it was done, Dean was sweating in his overall and his body was tense after being cramped in the same position in the narrow workspace for too long.

"Think that's done, then." Benny flung a screwdriver back in his toolbox. "C'mon, get outta there so we can finish here and they can switch on the power again."

Dean was halfway out of the hole when Benny gave a shout, loud, panicked –

Then something big and heavy hit his head, and the world turned black.

* * *

The room was held in a dim grey-ish light, but the source of the light was so bright it made Dean's head hurt when he opened his eyes for a split second. For a moment he tried to figure out where he was, and why – a hospital, he remembered someone who might have been a paramedic, and Benny talking to him with panic in his voice and blood on his boiler suit – then a wave of pain and nausea hit him, and he groaned helplessly.

"Dean?" A whisper.

Was that –?

"Cas?"

"Oh, God bless, you're awake!"

"Whassappn'd?"

Dean tried to open his eyes. Through his lashes, he could make Cas's figure out, as well as the comfortless pale green of the walls.

"A suitcase fell on your head. You got away with a mild concussion and a large laceration."

That explained the hospital, and the itch on his forehead. Dean raised his right hand to his temple but Cas caught it and lightly squeezed Dean's fingers.

"Don't scratch. You'd only draw blood. And you should keep that arm down – there is a needle in there."

"Oh." Dean squinted at his arm. A large plaster covered the inside of his right elbow, a tube sticking out from under it that lead to an IV bag on a pole next to the bed. Dean tried to speak but his throat was dry and he had the horrible taste of flavourless, day-old chewing gum in his mouth. He looked back at Cas and then at the bedside table to see if there was a bottle of water anywhere, which there was. He reached for it with his left arm but his muscles were weak, his fingers aimlessly grasping for air.

Cas took the bottle, filled a plastic cup and handed it to Dean. His fingers supported Dean's for a moment when he took the cup, then Cas pulled back as if he had burnt himself. Dean hastily took a few gulps of water to hide his hurt behind the cup. They still hadn't talked things out, he remembered, and Cas had still not answered to the letter Dean had taped to his door, the one where he promised not to do dumb stuff anymore…and _oh god_ , it was 4:37 AM on a Saturday and Cas was sitting in a hospital with dark circles under his eyes, stopping Dean from scratching an injury to the head (something that Dean was pretty sure could be filed under "dumb stuff") –

"Cas, I'm so sorry", he blurted out. "You gotta be so tired – and worried – I promised not to make you worry anymore, and here I am, in a friggin' hospital, and you got up in the middle of the night because I couldn't stay safe for a couple damn days –"

He sat up and put the cup away, spilling some water. Cas watched him with wide eyes, then he sat on the edge of the chair and leaned forward to gently stop Dean from practically jumping out of the bed.

"Dean", he said, bewildered. "You had an accident; that happens. It was not your fault. I know you would never be careless at work. And I'm –"  
His voice broke and Dean hated himself even more for making his friend miserable. But before he could say anything, Castiel took his left hand and cleared his throat.  
"I'm just so relieved and happy that it's only a minor injury and that you're awake and talking to me."

"But…" Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. His head felt as if it was filled with cotton wool. Combined with the headache, it made clear thinking a bit difficult.  
"Aren't you still angry with me? You didn't answer my letter. Which I c'n understand", he added hastily, "you got a lotta work with the kids and I was being a dick – "

Cas interrupted him by squeezing his fingers. "I read your letter. I've accepted your apology. I just wanted to talk to you face to face, Dean. You were right about a few things – I'm not your chaperone, you can walk through dark back alleys anytime you like…"  
He laughed faintly. "But I'm pretty sure that I'm not 'a much better person', as you put it."

"Yeah, you are", Dean said simply.

"That's not true, Dean. You see yourself in a bad light, and I don't even know why."

"I'm – what's the word? – inconsiderate. Of people's feelings. Like yours."

"Okay, maybe. But I'm not very open about my feelings, so there's that."

"Stop", Dean mumbled, fighting the cotton-wool dizziness that was threatening to take over his mind once more. "'s not your fault."

"And the accident at the airport wasn't yours. So don't beat yourself up over that one."

"Not beatin' up anyone soon."

"No." Cas chuckled. He was merely a shadow in Dean's vision, black and blue and beige, but his voice was still clear. "Please don't, you moron. As much as I love you, I can't run to the hospital every Friday night…"

 _As much as you_ love _me?_ Dean wanted to repeat. But the blackness hovering at the edge of his vision overcame him again, taking all noise and thought with it.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Last chapter! Thank you all for following, liking, etc. Hope you like it, and happy St Nicholas' Day, if you celebrate (if not, have a good day either way!)

* * *

The flat was warm and sun-lit when Dean returned home later on that Saturday morning. The doctors had considered him fit to go home (with some medicine, a sick certificate, and the promise to mostly stay in bed for at least a week). Castiel had ordered a taxi and stayed at Dean's side until they were inside the flat and Dean expressed the need to take a shower.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

"Why, you wanna get in the shower with me?" Dean managed a semi-seductive wink. Was that a blush on Cas's cheeks?

Cas turned away. "No, because you're obviously still under the influence of painkillers, you idiot."

That was probably true, and although Dean knew he'd regret it later, he really couldn't bring himself to care, or to shut up, for that matter.

"Aw, that's a shame. You could scrub my back and catch me if I'm about to collapse."

"Get in the shower already", Cas said kindly and punched his shoulder.

"As you wish."

The hot water was a blessing. It eased all the tension in Dean's body, cleaned his sticky skin. The _Pine Needle & Ocean Salt Breeze Shower Gel For Men_, in all its masculinity, washed away the smell of disinfectant and disease and infirmity that made hospitals so dreary.

The painkillers were making him drowsy. He got out of the shower and dried himself with the largest, fluffiest towel Cas had found in his wardrobe, then went to his room. Underwear, socks, a pair of worn-out but clean jeans, a soft T-shirt, a hoodie jacket; slowly and somewhat mechanically he got dressed. He winced when he pulled the shirt over his head – the laceration above his right temple hurt at the slightest bit of pressure.

All dressed, Dean sat on the bed and leaned against the wall. The cotton wool feeling in his head was gone but his whole body was exhausted, as if all the work of the past few weeks had suddenly drained him of all energy. He looked at his hands, so capable with cables and screws and cog wheels. If only the peace between him and Castiel were a machine, an apparatus you could fix by hand. Dean recalled that Cas had forgiven him last night but he wished he could somehow make up for the sorrow he had caused him recently. Maybe he should buy some flowers, better yet: a pot plant, Cas preferred flowers alive, flowers he could tend to…

A knock on the door brought Dean back from his thoughts. He cleared his throat. "C'min!"

Cas opened the door and eyed him anxiously. "Dean, you've been in here for twenty minutes. Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dean got up and walked towards him, smiling. "Just knackered, don't worry, doctor."

Cas leaned against the doorframe and returned the smile.

"Good. – Do you want breakfast? I, uh," he pointed over his shoulder, "I made pie…I thought that's fine for breakfast, too –"

Dean made another step towards Cas and kissed him full on the mouth.

Just like that, out of this sudden feeling of unconditional overwhelming affection, his heart bursting with love, and it felt right, so right. Cas's lips tasted like flour and apples, and when he didn't move or protest, Dean wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. Cas carefully placed a hand on Dean's cheek and tilted his head ever so slightly to deepen the kiss. They stood like this for several blissful, tender moments.

When Dean's stomach growled loudly, the spell was broken. Snorting with laughter, they pulled apart.

"What was that for?" Cas asked, tapping Dean's lips with one finger.

"For taking care of me when I don't –" His stomach growled again. "You taste like pie, Cas." Dean grinned. "I think it's made me hungry for more than air and love."

"Then let's feed the lions", Cas said and pulled him into the kitchen.

The pie was delicious. The pastry was a little lumpy but Dean could honestly not have cared less: After a night shift and then a night at the hospital without anything to eat, it tasted like heaven. Cas's eyes lit up when he told him so. They shared the pie, a pot of coffee, and a kiss every now and then. The sun filled their kitchen with light and warmth. Dean looked around to take everything in: The potted herbs on the windowsill, the bright yellow kitchen towels, the amber polish of the hanging cupboards, the randomly assorted chairs. And Cas, Cas, Castiel, dark hair, blue eyes, kind smile between fine worry lines and a five-o'clock shadow. Everything was so familiar and dear to Dean, it made his heart ache with love.

"Dean?"

"Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"You."

"Awwww."

Dean wanted to scowl but couldn't stop grinning at Cas. "Love you, too."

Cas threw his hands up in mock despair. "If only I had known that knocking you out with a suitcase would wake the romantic in you…!"

"Wait", Dean said. "For how long have you…?"

"Ages", Cas replied bluntly. "Practically since high school. But I'd filed you under 'hopeless crush, admire from a distance'."

Dean ducked his head. "Seems like the suitcase knack would've saved us both some trouble when we moved in here, huh?"

"Are you blushing, Dean Winchester?"

* * *

The house is bright and open. There is a delicious smell of rosemary and bacon in the air. The weather outside is sunny, a fresh spring wind is chasing fluffy white clouds across the blue sky. Sam and Jess's families are there, the men in suits and the women in dresses that are a bit too light for April. They've just come back from the christening, and the children are restless. As they storm towards the garden, Dean catches his niece and picks her up. She squeals and giggles when he whirls her around. Sam is watching anxiously but Jessica merely pats him on the back – if Dean drops Mary, she'll at least fall less far than from the arms of her father.

"Hey, butterfly", Dean says. "So what do you think about your now blessed little brother, huh?"

Mary's tiny fingers play with the slim ring on his left hand. "He thleepth."

Castiel laughs. "Watch out, Marylee. He'll wake and grow up to be a head taller than you."

Mary pouts and starts to fidget until Dean puts her down, then she joins the other kids outside. Castiel watches them with a smile.

"Do you want one?" Dean asks quietly.

Cas turns his head quickly, as if he's been caught. "What?"

"A child. I mean…once we're married. You love kids."

"I do, but…" He hesitates, looking back at Mary and her little friends. "Dean, would we be able to raise a child?"

Dean gives Cas a chaste kiss. "There's one way to find out."


End file.
